Trapped
by FantasticMissFox
Summary: She was their greatest secret. Living proof of their one moment of weakness. But the Templars will always question their decision. Is Fehnra deserving of their mercy, or is there really a demon Trapped within?
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

She was their greatest secret. Living proof of their one moment of weakness. At least, that's how the Templar's saw her. Those who knew of her existence did not speak of it, lest the mages overhear. It might give them false hope. The kind of hope that provoked them to lash out against the very Templar's who confined them in the tower.

Fehnra had been there for as long as she could remember. Though, that says little since she could remember nothing before her 6th year. She accepted this early on – after all, she can't miss what she never had, right? And it wasn't as if she had friends to compare lives with. The stone walls were her constant companion. Maker knows she never had any visitors. Actually, that's not entirely true. Wynne comes to see her from time to time. Fehnra knew Wynne cared a great deal for her, but she could not bring herself to do the same. If she found herself longing for Wynne's visits, it would just make the time between them stretch longer.

These thoughts swam through her head as Fehnra traced a pattern on her desk, the rough wood grating against her soft finger. The light shining through her windows illuminated the table, revealing several piles of books, each one at least a few feet tall. Fehnra couldn't bring herself to read them, for their pages were already worn from the numerous times she had turned them. With the books' contents firmly embedded in her mind, she refused to pick them back up until the words were unfamiliar once again.

Fehnra sighed, tapping her foot against the table leg. She had already practiced her magic. The new scorch mark on the wall was proof of that. Fehnra's primal abilities were unmatched by any. At least, that's what Wynne and the Templars told her. She had never had the opportunity to meet another primal mage, and probably never would. How could they expect her to learn control if she was never allowed an instructor? Fehnra lowered her head to the table, lightly banging her head against it in frustration.

Fehnra's banging prevented her from hearing the trap door raise up from the floor, followed by a heavily-plated body. The Templar wobbled precariously, balancing himself on the thin stairs while carrying a tray of food.

Cullen yelped as he felt the stairs beginning to recede into the wall, and placed the tray on the ground as he clambered up and out of the opening. He turned and gently lowered the door back into its place. Cullen grabbed the tray and looked up, only to be met with Fehnra's glowing eyes.

Her eyelids drooped with boredom, and yet that did nothing to dim the brilliancy with which they shined. A waterfall of gold, spilling over her shoulders and waist, concealed her right eye. A waterfall was the only way to describe it, for it shimmered in the light like sun on a lake. 'Yes,' Cullen thought, 'A waterfall of gold. It has to be.' He pried his eyes off the perfect creature in the chair, and saw the blackened spot on the wall to his left. It was a single, concentrated spot, rather than the giant splash he was used to seeing. Her control seemed nearly perfect, an idea he and the other Templars had once thought impossible. If Fehnra could show Gregoir that she was not a danger to others, then perhaps he would allow her to join the rest of the mages…

Cullen seemed to wilt suddenly, turning his head back towards Fehnra. 'Look at her. She can never be like the others. Life would not be kind to her. Not that it is now.' His hands clenched around the tray as he considered the unfairness of it all.

He stepped towards the desk, watching as she shifted a pile of books to make room for her meal. The movement parted her hair slightly, revealing a single, pointed ear. Her features faintly resembled that of an elf, but her face was so perfectly sculpted that she could be mistaken for a creature of myth. When Cullen had first seen her, he had thought her a denizen of the Golden City, hiding on earth from the corruption of the Tevinter Magisters.

'What an outrageous thought that was,' Cullen thought.

Cullen placed the tray on the table, being careful not to touch the tall stacks of books with his large pauldrons.

Fehnra tapped her foot impatiently, having waited long enough as he had stopped to consider her and the wall. "How are you today, Ser Cullen?" she inquired.

"V-very well, Lady Fehnra. I see you've been, um, practicing a great deal since my last visit," Cullen said, gesturing towards the scorch mark on the wall.

"Oh yes," Fehnra said in an amused voice. "It's certainly more concentrated this time. I shudder to think of last years incident!"

Cullen chuckled, reminded of the instance where he and other Templars were awoken in the middle of the night to quench her drapes of the fire that had been consuming them. She claimed she could not sleep, and apparently the alternative was to practice her fire magic. Cullen had never seen Gregoir so angry. So much so, that he had forbidden Fehnra from practicing her magic for a week.

Cullen then sobered, remembering what had come of that punishment. Fehnra, as the templars had found, was so connected to the fade that she had to have an outlet for her magic. And that was to use it. The buildup of magic inside her for just a week put her in a coma for a month. The hidden room was not conducive to her unconscious state, so they were forced to move her to the infirmary. Under constant guard of course.

'What a headache that was. It was hard enough just to keep the entire tower from noticing her presence.' Cullen thought. He knew the month was most stressful on Wynne, who saw Fehnra almost as a daughter.

"Has W-wynne come to visit lately? She uh seemed a b-bit down when I saw her last."

"Not for a few days," Fehnra replied. "She's the best healer the tower has, I suppose she's just been too busy." Fehnra lifted a fork of potatoes to her mouth, savoring her favorite vegetable. She didn't get it often, seeing as the circle tower was in the middle of the forested part of Ferelden, which prevented the starchy vegetable from being grown locally. It was a treat she looked forward to every time Cullen was chosen to bring her the evening meal.

"S-she'll visit soon Lady F-fehnra, I'm sure of it. Wynne adores y-your company," Cullen assured her with an encouraging smile.

"I know," said Fehnra simply. She chewed her food thoughtfully, almost finishing with the chicken that was heaped on one side of her plate. The Templars were sure to give her plenty of protein. Though that did her little good with the small amount of exercise she got.

Cullen shuffled his feet awkwardly, unsure of what to do with himself. "W-well, I think I'll just be uh... going, now." He paused, waiting for a response, but none came. He walked towards the trapdoor, dispelling the wards that prevented its opening, and proceeded to open it, pausing to wait for the thin staircase to materialize out of the wall before he descended, giving Fehnra a quick glance before he shut the trapdoor.

_...-…_...-…_...-…_

Authors Note:

Hi! This is my first story… ever. I would never have written this story, except that it's been flying around in my head for around a year. I did put some chapters up a year ago, but didn't have the time to work on it further. But guess who has time now? ;) But please, share your thoughts, and the only way to do that is to PM or Review. Thanks!

-Marie


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Fehnra's story is a unique one. She wasn't possessed, exactly… at least not anymore. It's best to simply start from the beginning.

The Templar's had been stepping up their raids on the Dalish tribes, excluding no mage from their attack. They had already taken the Keeper, Adelan, and the Keeper's second, Mehthra. The Templars were about to retreat back to the nearby village, when the group's Commander sensed a magical presence in one of the larger tents.

He stomped forward, and yanked the flaps of the aravel's entrance aside, gazing upon the elves inside. The female was clutching her young girl to her chest, while the man stood in front of him, ready to stop his progress. The Commander took little notice of the male elf, and sweeped him aside with a swing of his arm. His focus was on the girl. The Templar grabbed the back of her shirt, lifting her away from her mother, and handed her to the Templar waiting behind him. The mother cried, gasping out words in Elvhen while turned towards the sky. The father picked himself off the ground, and rushed at the Commander, his thin face twisted into an awful expression of anger and loss.

"Pitiful elf," the Commander spat as he drew his claymore, hefting it over his shoulder to disable the elf with the pommel.

As the male elf fell, the Commander turned and exited the tent, ignoring the stricken cries of the female elf wailing within. He glanced at the writhing child in the arms of his subordinate, and grimaced. The Commander felt something in akin to pity for a moment, but it swiftly passed. Mages were a danger to society, and catching them early helped with their integration into the mage tower. It was better for everyone this way.

The young elf, Fehnra, learned quickly, especially when it came to the primal arts. Each element she greeted as a friend, and they worked together like age-old companions. The instructors noticed this, and were quick to point her towards the path of the primal mage. Fehnra's studies progressed quickly, garnering her the attention of many. It was her uncommon aptitude with magic that would be her undoing.

After spending some time at the tower, Fehnra's dreams shifted to a darker tone, plaguing her sleep with demons and whispers of her secret desires. She noticed the same demon, constantly battering at her defenses, trying to get into her innermost thoughts. Fehnra was strong, but she was only 6. This desire demon was not put off for long by Fehnra's resistance.

It finally happened during one of Fehnra's instruction times. She had dozed off during one of Wynne's lectures, which was not surprising, considering her lack of sleep and lack of patience with the healing arts.

Desire demons do not often possess people, but when they do… it's unlike any other abomination. They much prefer to enthrall their victims, as it is a much less complicated process, and does not require as much energy.

Wynne stumbled back, mid- lecture, as Fehnra's body began to glow with a menacing red light. Her head was clasped in her hands, her mouth open in a silent scream. Her features began to shift, but not to those of a monster. Oh no, they shifted towards perfection. A desire demon will not accept a less than perfect host body. After all, their main purpose is to inspire desire in others while bending them to the demons will. Only powerful Demons may do this, and Fehnra was unfortunate enough to attract the attention of one of them.

Her hair changed from the color of straw to that of burnished gold, reflecting the light of the surrounding candles. Her eyes, once a stormy gray, shifted to a brilliant sapphire as they stared at Wynne, begging for help. But the healer was powerless to stop the transformation, lest she wanted to strike the young elf down. And that was not an option to the motherly mage. Fehnra's features slowly became symmetrical, giving her visage a look of impossible perfection. Each flaw in the skin was burned away by the red glow, leaving her skin a smooth alabaster.

The red glow began to subside, yet this didn't put an end to Wynne's tension. She had not spent so many years in the mages tower to not know an advanced possession when she saw one. It was a private classroom, so no Templars had seen her. Yet. Fehnra slowly stood from where she was kneeling, and smirked at Wynne. While her 6 year old body screamed little angel, her eyes spoke demon.

Wynne backed up, holding her palm out towards the elvish child.

"Leave Demon! The child has done nothing to deserve this!" She held back the tremble she felt creeping into her voice, presenting a strong front to the Demon.

The 'child' laughed, a low, rich sound, but completely hollow in meaning.

"You have no idea how long I've watched this child. I've waited long enough for her to give in to me. It's embarrassing enough having a 6 year old elf keep me at bay for so long. But no longer! I'm not giving up this body for anything. Her magic is like nothing I've ever felt before!"

To emphasize her point, the demon sent a blue flame arching towards the bookshelf, setting it and all the books in it ablaze. The smoke quickly filled the room, clouding Wynne's sight. The gray mass stung her eyes, and forced her lower to the ground to find cleaner air. The demon child laughed, seeming to not be affected by the smoke staining the air.

Suddenly, Fehnra gasped, and doubled over as if in pain. Wynne coughed into her hand, watching as the young elf's body began to convulse, trying to expel the evil within it.

Seconds ticked by as Wynne held her breath, waiting to see what gave the demon pause. As the second minute passed, the older mage began to feel feint. She thanked the maker there was nothing flammable near the bookcase, which was close to cinders now. Fehnra still maintained her bent position, now whispering to herself fiercely.

"NO! GET OUT OF MY HEAD DEMON! I WILL… NOT… HAVE… YOU… HERE!" Fehnra's back arched as she screamed, a great red light expelling from her body. The light began to coalesce nearby, solidifying into the form of a Desire demon.

"Impossible…" Wynne whispered to herself, "She expelled her own demon."

The Desire demon let out a scream of frustration, her movements jingling the jewelry that hung from her in abundance. Her horns curved back, more than those of any desire demons Wynne had ever seen. Perhaps it was a mark of their power. Nevertheless, Wynne had to dispose of that demon before it returned to Fehnra's weakened body.

By this time, the smoke had wafted out under the door, attracting the attention of the nearby Templars. Wynne could hear the pounding of their steel-clad feet as they gathered outside the door.

The wood frame surrounding the doorway began to splinter as the Templars through themselves at it. A fire in the mage tower typically meant out-of-control mages. This merely fueled their conviction to get to the source of the smoke.

Wynne's ears were ringing from the demons scream, preventing her from hearing any of the Templars demands. She was focused solely on Fehnra, and getting her out safely. She crawled over to the elf, and wrapped her arms around her securely, holding her fragile from tightly to herself. Wynne then turned her head towards the demon, only to find it gone. 'Where did it go? There's only 2 possibilities…'

Wynne's thoughts were interrupted as the Templars burst through the door, immediately draining the mana from the room. Wynne felt the force suck the mana from her body, leaving her drained and nauseous. Fehnra whimpered, clutching her chest as if to keep the magic from leaving her.

The last of the bookshelf's cinders were stamped out under the Gregoirs steel-toed boots as he surveyed the room. When one of his Templars had burst into his office, babbling about Wynne's instruction room expelling smoke, he had been ready to sentence the whelp to a month of kitchen duty. But seeing Wynne huddled on the ground, clutching the form of the new mageling Fehnra, made him reconsider his initial assessment.

A long discussion with Wynne (after a trip to the infirmary of course), revealed the truth of the situation. Never before had Gregoir felt so conflicted. The girl was a model mage, and had clearly fought against the demon. But she had been possessed! The chantry law clearly stated what was called for in this situation. It was either death, or the Rite of Tranquility. But… a 6 year old? Could he live with such a heinous act weighing on his conscious for the rest of his life? He paced in front of Wynne as she waited for his decision. She certainly believed the girl to not be a danger. Gregoir felt himself giving in to his merciful side, and came to a quick decision.

"There is a possibility she could still be possessed. The demon had two options at that point: return to the fade, or return to Fehnra's body. I will not kill her." At this, Wynne sighed in relief.

"However," Gregoir paused, eyes on Wynne's face as he revealed his plan, "She could still be a danger. She must be kept separate from others, until a time I deem she is safe enough to re-enter mage society. Though, considering her appearance, that may be never. There's no telling what would happen to her if she was let out into the world looking like that." The Templar considered the child's appearance after he found them. The soot from the flames had done nothing to conceal her ethereal beauty; Beauty enough to get her every desire.

"Yes, hiding her in the tower is the best option. She may live and continue her studies, but we can't let her roam around unchecked. If the Chantry got wind that I did this, I would have to resign in shame. Then who would protect her?" He glanced at Wynne, and was pleased to see her content with the arrangement.

"It is the only good option," she agreed. "But only trust a few of your Templars. Like you said, if the Chantry found out about her it would be her head and your career."

"Then it is settled. We shall hide her in the top of the tower until she is deemed safe. Perhaps her face will return to the way it was by then."

Suffice to say, it didn't. It took 20 years for something to change in Fehnra's life. But the wait was worth it.

_...-…_...-…_...-…_

All right, there's chapter 2. So please, give me your thoughts, good reviews, bad reviews, trash my dreams and crush my spirits. Whichever you prefer, but please be truthful! Hurricane Sandy might cause me to lose power, so I'm not sure I'll be able to update tomorrow. Ah yes, and Fehnra's name is pronounced Fane-rah.

-Marie


	3. Chapter 3

Authors Note:

So my powers out… but my computer has, about 7 hours of power left, so there's not much else to do besides write! I would like to thank the reviewers so far. Your encouragement is very… encouraging ;)

I don't have a beta currently, so please forgive any grammatical errors.

Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to Bioware, along with any characters already within the game. Alistair shall never be mine :(

CHAPTER 3

Duncan sighed, gazing upon the tall tower that loomed before him. He always hated coming to this place. While others believed mages to be a danger to society, Duncan himself thought them to be quite harmless. Unless provoked, that is. Luckily, this visit should be rather short.

'Find a recruit or two, and leave.' Duncan thought to himself. The boat carrying him towards the Mage's Tower rocked back and forth, prompted by the waves coming off of the island's rocky shore.

"'Ere we are Commander," said the row man, tethering the boat to the dock with a length of rope.

"Thank you, my good man," said Duncan, handing the man five copper bits. "A little extra for your quick pace."

"Thank yeh Ser!" the man grinned at Duncan. After accepting the tip, the man untethered the stern, and proceeded to row back towards the now-distant shoreline to await more passengers.

Duncan straightened his armor and settled his blades more firmly on his back before continuing onwards. As Duncan marched toward the hulking doors of the Mage's Tower, he realized there was a figure already waiting between the two slabs of wood.

"Greetings Duncan!" exclaimed Gregoir, clasping the Grey Warden's hand as he approached the Templar.

"Greetings Knight-Commander," said Duncan, returning the shake. "How has the Tower fared since my last visit?"

The two walked through the entryway, heading towards the stairwell at the end of the corridor. The Templars at either side of the hallway stood at attention as the men passed, placing their fists over their hearts in salute.

"Fairly well, considering all that we put up with," answered Gregoir. "The mages have been a tad unruly, but nothing unexpected. We did have one incident in the library this past winter however. One of our young apprentices was possessed during a lesson. Of course, we followed the chantry's rules regarding the situation. He was given a quick death."

"That is unfortunate," said Duncan.

It was always regrettable when a mage succumbed to the demons in the fade. The demons whisperings usually promised power, maybe even wealth. But many mages craved not these things. No, they wanted freedom. After years of being trapped in a tower with little hope of leaving, many mages eagerly accept a demons promise of freedom. Once possessed, those mages never fail to turn into abominations, hideous creatures, and proceed to attack anyone in their vicinity. Duncan believed that keeping the mages confined only increased the chances of this happening, and therefore didn't truly keep the people of Ferelden safe.

The two armored men walked along the first floor of the tower, passing by the apprentices' quarters. As the youngest mages in the tower, the apprentices were the hardest to keep under control. Many of the young boys and girls would sneak off together to empty classrooms to spend a little 'alone time' together. Of course, the Templars could not allow this; such alone time was also conducive to studying blood magic away from watchful eyes.

As they ascended the staircase towards the second floor, Duncan noticed a lack of mages wandering the corridors. He pointed this fact out to Gregoir.

"It's the studying hour currently. During this time, the mages must either remain in their quarters, the library, or one of our classrooms. Of course, all doors must remain open to ensure that no accidents occur."

Each door Duncan passed was open, as if emphasizing the Knight-Commander's point. Within each room, several mages were either asleep, or had their heads bowed down towards an open book on the desk before them.

"It helps us keep order around the tower," Gregoir said. "Of course, after study time the mages are eager to move around, but they are much calmer than they usually are."

Duncan made a few hums of appreciation, feeling as though any other action towards what must have been Gregoir's own plan would merely insult the Templar.

Once Duncan and Gregoir reached the third floor, the Knight-Commander led his companion towards the room at the end of the corridor.

"Here you are Duncan, I know you must be eager to discuss your business with First Enchanter Irving." Gregoir pointed out.

Duncan was about to thank the Knight-Commander for his help in finding the room, when Gregoir interrupted "But remember Duncan. I have the final say in what happens to all of the occupants of this tower. I suggest you choose your candidate carefully. It would not do to anger the me, nor would it be in your best interest to anger the chantry."

"I act in the best interest of the Gray Wardens and of Ferelden, Knight-Commander. While I will take your advice under consideration, know this: should I find a candidate I deem fit for the Gray Wardens, I will most likely conscript them without regards to your feelings or those of the chantry," Duncan said. He offered a smile to the Knight-Commander, "But it would be best to avoid that situation. Thank you for your hospitality towards the Gray Wardens Knight-Commander."

Gregoir grimaced "Of course Warden Commander. It's always a pleasure."

The Templar took several steps back, saluting Duncan with the traditional fist-over-heart. Duncan reciprocated this, and turned towards the open door adjacent to them.

"Come in Duncan, come in," rasped a voice from inside.

_...-…_...-…_...-…_

Icicles dropped from the ceiling, shattering against nearly every surface in the room.

"Maker damn it!" Fehnra exclaimed, darting underneath her desk. She stared at the melting chunks of ice spread across her room. Not even her bed was spared the onslaught. It seemed her cone of cold could still use some work. Scratch that: a LOT of work.

Around noon each day was the time Fehnra would practice her magic. She didn't always stick to a schedule (she would have gone crazy by now if that was the case), but today she didn't feel like doing anything else. Magic was by far her favorite activity.

"Well, as long as I don't blow anything up." Fehnra snickered at the memory of her curtains. Such an incident hadn't happened for many months, but the thought of replicating it amused her from time to time.

Fire came the easiest to her. Or rather, it was the easiest to control. Fehnra just loved looking at the dancing flames alight in her palm. They always seemed so cheery despite the gloomy atmosphere that always seemed to surround her.

Lightning was next. While most mages found this element difficult to control, Fehnra had little problems with it. The most difficulty came not from controlling it, but from the size of the bolts she conjured up. Often, she hit was she aimed at, but the splash from the impact went everywhere. Luckily, lightning didn't cause too much damage to inanimate objects, so her few belongings were safe.

Fehnra was forbidden from practicing any earth magic, so she wasn't sure about her proficiency with it. Normally, an apprentice would be allowed a small boulder to work with, but the noise coming from her small room would attract too much attention. No one was supposed to know that this room even existed. A pity, because hurling around large boulders sounded fun.

But Ice. ICE. Normally the easiest element for a mage, it did not come easily for Fehnra. Oh, her spells were powerful of course, but they always were all over the place. One such instance being right now.

Fehnra peeked out from underneath her desk, ready to retreat with a moments notice. It seemed that the ice had stopped falling. She scrambled out from beneath the wood, only to slip on a melting piece of ice.

"Ooof!" The impact with the floor forced the air out of her lungs. Fehnra laid there for a moment, refilling her lungs with air. She then blew several strands of hair out of her face.

"I… hate… ICE!" She hissed to herself.

The telltale creak of the trapdoor caused Fehnra's head to turn towards it. Short red hair emerged first, followed by the rest of Ser Cullen's head.

"Good day, L-lady Fehnra." Cullen said as he clambered up through the hole.

"Well, hello there Ser Cullen," Fehnra greeted from her position on the floor.

Once he reached the top of the steps, Cullen finally looked up, only to be greeted with the image of icicles covering the floor, and the lady mage sprawled on the ground in the middle of it.

"Aren't y-you a little old to be playing g-games?" Cullen shyly teased as he maneuvered his way to the desk.

"Nonsense. Six and twenty years does not an elder make," Fehnra defended. She pushed herself up onto her knees, and slowly stood, positioning her feet carefully to avoid any more icicle incidents.

Being an elf in itself lends a person several more years than most other races. Fehnra looked not a day over eighteen. It was common knowledge that the elves received this trait from their descendants, the Elvhes of Arlathan.

"You can set the tray down on my books Ser Cullen, I'll move it in a moment."

The Templar placed the tray on one of her piles of books, adjusting it so it did not sit so precariously.

"I've also brought a bit of news for you Lady F-fehnra," Cullen said.

"Oh? Have the apprentices conjured another hoard of frogs? Or has the storage room been overrun with spiders again?" Fehnra patted down her mage's robes as she said this, and made her way over to her desk.

"Neith—Well, the storage room HAS been overrun with spiders—but that is not the news I wanted to share. There is a Gray Warden in the tower."

"Really?! A Gray Warden? Now?" Fehnra gasped, excitedly hopping from one foot to the other.

"Indeed. And this one happens to be the Warden Commander for all of Ferelden," answered Cullen.

Fehnra's increasing excitement caused the air to heat up, immediately evaporating the rest of the water and ice.

"Calm down Lady Fehnra! You're boiling me in my own armor!" Cullen said, trying to calm the excited elf down.

Fehnra stopped hopping, and seemed to sink within herself. The air surrounding them slowly returned to the temperature it had been previously.

"I apologize Ser Cullen. I sometimes forget the sensitivity the elements have towards my emotions."

"I-it's alright Lady Fehnra. Your excitement is understandable. Many of the mages are practicing their m-magic right out in the corridors, hoping the Warden will see them and want to conscript them. It's all rather f-funny," Cullen chuckled as he said this, trying to cheer the sad elf.

"Hah! I probably know more about the Wardens than any of those mages down there. I've read so many books about them!" Fehnra seemed to return to the happy mood she had when Ser Cullen first entered. "_Of Griffons and Darkspawn_ is my favorite."

At this, Fehnra clasped her hands together and stared towards the ceiling.

"Riding off into battle on the back of a mighty flying beast, swooping down upon the enemy hoard and showering them with bursts of flames," Fehnra turned, looking towards Cullen. "It sounds a little too good to be true, yes?"

Cullen closed his gaping mouth, and drew his eyes away from her sparkling ones of sapphire.

"It IS too g-good to be true. The griffons died out many years ago, as you well k-know."

"Yes, of course. But it's nice just to dream every once in a while," Fehnra sighed.

She picked up the tray from the desk, and made her way over towards the bed. Placing it on her small nightstand, she noticed an extra plate of potatoes next to her usual vegetables.

"Thank you Ser Cullen. For the news and the food. You're always so kind to me," Fehnra said, giving him a wide smile.

The Templar blushed fiercely, and turned his gaze away from the beautiful creature before him. At least he was faring much better with her. The first time she had done that, he had collapsed in a dead faint. He couldn't look his Knight-Commander in the eye for weeks after that incident.

"I-it's n-no problem at a-all. I-it's the l-least I c-can do for y-you." Cullen said.

Before he could make too much a fool of himself, Cullen turned around and walked towards the trapdoor. Before he descended through it, however, he turned and said

"It is unlikely I will deliver your food next time. The K-knight-Commander likes to change the o-order around." At Fehnra's saddened look, Cullen hastily continued "But I'll try and get back as s-soon as I can."

"Thank you Ser Cullen. Hardly any of the other Templars stay and converse with me like this. It's either 'gape at me until they put the tray down and run away,' or 'force me into a corner while they put the food on the floor.' You'd think I'm some type of wild animal for Maker's sake!"

Fehnra suddenly sighed and turned towards the small window in the room.

Cullen sensed that the conversation was finished, and made his way down the magical staircase leading into the harrowing chamber of the tower, closing the trapdoor behind him.

It would be a long time until the next Templar delivered food. At least eight hours from then. Not much else to do besides eat, and continue magic practice.

Fehnra shot a small stream of fire out of the window in frustration, and watched the tongues of flame disperse into the air.

"I wish I could be a Gray Warden." Fehnra smiled grimly. "Like that would ever be possible."

_...-…_...-…_...-…_

Author's Note:

That took some time. Without a beta, I spend many minutes obsessing over grammar and other insignificant things. But I find that when I read fanfiction, I often leave the first chapter because of around 5 grammar mistakes. I'm picky :/

Hope everyone made it through Sandy ok! 3 sections of our house's fencing got torn up, and my shutters disappeared boo

Read, review, pm me, whichever. I just enjoy hearing your feed back about how it is going


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